


Reunion

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a mission, Kylo or Poe went MIA and presumed dead. Fortunately, he finds his way home before they could find him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

Kylo is not used to this feeling. This… _caring_ for another. Or he is, but it’s been so long that he’s forgotten how to handle it. And the worry he’s felt has always been _remote_. He’s been so far away from the causes of his concern that the low, constant-niggle has been just part of his psychological incidental music, something there and not heard. But now - now it’s like the main theme has kicked in and it goes something like this:

_Dead dead dead, captured, tortured, broken, bleeding, bruised, hurting…_

His mind unhelpfully provides the images from experience. He remembers the First Order’s techniques (helped hone many of them from blunt objects of force to _fine instruments of precision_ ) and he can just project them straight onto Poe’s face, his body. He can tell what they’d do to him, because **Kylo would have done them himself**.

And that’s the worst of it: it isn’t the First Order torturing Poe. It’s Kylo, in his head. Which makes no sense, logically but all his memories of hurting everyone he ever did… become overlaid with Poe’s screams. It’s bad enough regretting your past actions, but having them replayed in your skull with your lover’s face is… is…

He tells himself he would know. If he did - if - he tells himself he feels him strongly enough in the Force that if s… if…

The heels of his hands press into closed eyes so hard he can see star systems. Can see dead planets. Can see Alderaan. Coruscant. Can see…

There’s something. Something coming. He can feel it, before it makes sense to him what the sensation is. Hands on controls… and he realises he can feel Poe flying back in. The feeling is unsettling, but it’s also beyond welcome. He bolts out of their small quarters, running in the direction of the bright flare of hope. He probably elbows twenty people, or he passes none, but either way he wouldn’t care and no one argues when **Kylo Ren** runs past them like a man on a mission from the Maker himself. 

When he gets there, Poe isn’t even out of his craft, though the cockpit is open. Kylo doesn’t care. He jumps up onto the wing, and grabs hold of Poe by his stupid-ass lame flightsuit, nose smacking into the edge of his helmet’s visor, as he kisses him, hard. He’s precariously balanced, and anyone who’s come to greet them will get a view of his ass as he makes out with his pilot, but he doesn’t care.

Fingers go up into his hair, gloved, but Kylo doesn’t care. The scratchy fabric strokes over the back of his neck, and he nearly falls into the cockpit and his pilot’s lap. It’s just the reassurance of feeling him in his hands, of knowing he’s safe, that makes him so Force-damned happy. The kisses get less measured, more frantic, and Kylo tries to wrench Poe’s helmet straight off his head and also not fall off the ship at the same time.

Poe starts to laugh, and a hand on his collar makes him stop. 

“Hey, let me get out of my ship, at least?”  


“No.”  


“No?”  


Kylo shakes his head. “No. I want you sitting right there. With the helmet off.”

Poe blinks in surprise. “…okay.”

“…make sure no one comes by just yet.” Kylo’s eyes flicker to the panel, indicating the comms. “Tell them to give you fifteen minutes. Or… wait until you’re done post-flight checks.”  


“Is that what we’re calling this?” But Poe does as he’s told, to a very confused ground control. They wisely read between the lines and agree.  


His pilot unfastens his helmet, and Kylo takes it, flicking it away, making sure it doesn’t get damaged too badly. And then he’s back to holding Poe’s face in both hands and kissing him slower. Slower being the operative word, because damnit… it’s Poe Dameron. He uses his teeth to press into his lover’s lip, and he tastes of far-off places, and he needs to taste of Kylo, instead. He licks into his mouth and feels his tongue, and that still feels the same. Later, it will tell him he was silly to worry. Tell him of course he was coming back, he always comes back. Later. Right now, it surrenders to his wash of panic and rejoicing, and the clumsy, gloved fingers run through his dark hair and tangle into it.

X-Wings are too small for two people. Especially when one of them is Kylo Ren. Poe fits snugly inside his cockpit, and no amount of Force would really allow Kylo in. They’ve discussed it, of course, but it just won’t work. A Y-Wing, maybe, but not an X-Wing. So Kylo does the next best thing, which is slip his hand in between Poe’s thighs, behind the joystick, and press down with the heel of his hand. 

Poe jumps, and not in a bad way. Not at all. He knows the man is almost more sexually attracted to his damn ships than he is to Kylo, but right now, he can have both. (And this is going to make it harder for Poe - no pun intended - to do his flight routines without thinking of Kylo, and maybe that’s half the point.) He grips his lover’s groin through the orange fabric, and Poe breaks from the kiss to push his mouth into the crook of his neck.

“Kylo…”  


“Shhh…”  


The broken tone urges him on, and he knows they have to do this fast. The time for real loving will be later, but right now he’s so high on getting him back that he has to get him _off_. And **now**. He pulls apart fabric, elbow banging against controls that bleep and bloop and Poe smacks buttons to get them to shut up. He’s already fully hard when Kylo’s hand curls around his shaft, and Poe’s right leg starts to bounce in frustrated need.

“Oh _Maker_ , **YES**.”  


He’s hard, and he’s wanting, and when Kylo pinches the very head and rubs his thumb firmly over the slit at the end, Poe’s hands go to the sides of his seat, and his head goes back, and his eyes roll up into his skull.

Poe is a hedonist, but he normally insists on trying to give something back at the same time as he gets for himself. Even if it’s just kisses to his jaw, or hands in his hair. The fact he’s baring himself like this tells Kylo he’s winning, and he nips soft kisses into the exposed section of throat as he runs his hand up and down, up and down, as fast and furious as he can. Poe can’t even really hump into his fist, and Kylo knows it must be driving him insane. 

“Kylo… oh K-Kylo… I– I–”  


If he comes in his hand, he’ll make a mess all over his flightsuit, and maybe his ship. It will be hard to cover that up, so Kylo bends over awkwardly and shoves his face between Poe’s legs. His hand continues to work over the base as he suckles with all he can over the end, lips tight and cheeks hollowing. Poe can’t fuck up into his face, but Kylo can use his teeth and slam into his balls, and the position is too much, too much, and it’s an agony but Poe starts to come and a hand on the back of his head stops him from moving, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He swallows him down as much as he can, the taste hitting the back of his throat and his body trying to cope, but this is okay, he won’t choke, and he’s making Poe happy, and eventually it stops and he sits back on the wing of his ship, smirking.

Poe looks fucked out of his mind when he’s done, eyes blinking unseeing for a moment, before he turns to look at him.

“I love you, you lunatic,” Poe tells him, voice absolutely destroyed.  


“You can prove it to me after your debriefing,” Kylo says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.   


“… _fuck_.”  


“That’s the general idea, yes.”  


“…I meant the people coming over, now,” Poe says, and his hands move to shove his spit-slick cock back away.   


“I thought you told them not to come until you called them,” Kylo says, alarmed.  


“…I did. Thank the Maker they waited _this_ long.”  


Kylo decides Poe deserves a taste of his own medicine, and leans over to kiss him again. He knows his mouth still tastes of his own seed, and Poe loves that, too. He’ll probably suffer for his impudence later, but he doesn’t care. 

The people who come to greet them look embarrassed, and Kylo slips down from the wing. “He’s in one piece,” he tells them. “I checked him over.”

“…Sir?”  


“I’m fine,” Poe agrees. “Sorry I took so long getting back. I ran into… difficulties.”  


Kylo hopes he isn’t rewarding Poe for going missing, because he doesn’t want to go through the part where he _was not here_  again, but the part where he **came back** might need a repeat performance, all the same. 


End file.
